(March – May 2018)* I started chemotherapy two days after returning from my Christmas trip to Tokyo. That sleepy smile in the photo above is a combination of traveling and the massive dose of Benadryl I received before the infusion. Jaime (left) and Vickie (right) made my chemo treatments as easy, and as fun, as chemotherapy could possibly be. They were happy, loving, and friendly to everyone, and I will treasure their friendship always. You read that correctly. (That isn’t a COVID mask – it’s what an immunocompromised cancer patient wears to try to stay safe in public). My mother,
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Chapter 2: One Hundred and One*
I don’t have many photos to document Chapter 2 of CLIMB,* which chronicles my cancer diagnosis, surgery, and early treatment. (In fairness, I suspect I’m not alone in the fact that my first reaction to learning I had cancer wasn’t “SOMEONE GRAB THE CAMERA”) I also have no photographs of my beloved grandmother, Peggy, whose cancer story I also share in Chapter 2. For those details, you’ll have to read the book… However . . . although this is the shortest chapter in the photo companion, it’s not entirely without pictures: Four weeks after my double mastectomy, I flew to
Read moreCountdown to Japan and the Hundred Summits!
Today my husband and I moved out of our temporary apartment and into the hotel that will serve as the final “staging point” for our departure to Japan. We’ve (mostly) packed our suitcases… and the international delivery service will show up Monday morning to take them away.
Read moreChemo, Hair Loss, And Waiting To Grow Again
Chemotherapy is a liar and a thief. It lies, because it makes us feel impossibly sick–so sick we cannot possibly recover. It steals, because it causes most of us to lose the physical characteristics we associate with personal identity: our hair, eyelashes, nose hairs (trust me, you’ll miss them more than you might think), facial shape, and sometimes fingernails and skin. (You don’t lose *all* your skin, of course, but it becomes a crackly, dried-out thing you might not recognize.) This was me at the start of my cancer journey: This is me today:
Read moreWe Interrupt This Program…
… for an update on the 100 Summits project and my cancer treatment. I completed my last chemotherapy infusion two weeks ago today. My side effects are mostly gone, with the notable exception of my nearly-bald head, which will likely remain almost completely hairless for at least another week before I start getting “baby fuzz.” If everything goes as expected, I’ll have a little “real hair” within six weeks.
Read moreOnce More Into the Breach
This morning, I head to the infusion center for my final chemotherapy infusion. Unlike so many endings in life, this one is not bittersweet. (In fact, since I gave up sugar entirely during chemotherapy, but brought a box of lemon Pocky back from Japan to enjoy when it was over, I can tell you the end of chemo will be very sweet indeed.) That said, I don’t regret my decision to undergo chemotherapy after my breast cancer diagnosis, even though my stage (1a) made it my choice rather than something I “had” to do.
Read moreTraveling to Japan . . . on Chemotherapy
Tomorrow evening, I board a flight for Los Angeles, and Sunday morning I’m heading for Japan to meet with my immigration representative and sign my visa application. On Wednesday, I had my second infusion of Taxol chemotherapy (number 2 of 4) so I’ll be recovering from the side effects while I travel.
Read moreOnward, Into the Breach!
Yesterday, my husband and I sold the house we’ve called home for the last 14 years and moved to a rental apartment where we’ll spend the next two months (and a little more) while waiting on our visa application for the move to Japan. When I decided, a year ago, to close my law practice and take a sabbatical year to climb the nihon hyakumeizan (hundred famous mountains of Japan) the endeavor seemed crazy but exciting–a chance to face my fears and live the life I’d always dreamed of living. Now that the time has come, it’s also terrifying.
Read more100 Summits, Plus 1 More: Chemotherapy (Day 1)
In 2018, I will attempt to become the first American woman over 45 to climb the Nihon hyakumeizan (100 famous mountains of Japan) in a single year. Given my recent cancer diagnosis and surgery, I believe I’ll also be the only person of any age to climb them within a year of completing chemotherapy. My oncologist described the journey as “100 summits, plus one more.” I started up the first one yesterday – even though I didn’t walk a step. Since I plan to chronicle the entire 100 Summits experience here on the blog, I’m including my “climb” through chemotherapy also
Read moreMy Grandmother Helped Save My Life
I posted part of this on Facebook a couple of days ago, but since at least some of my readers might not see it there, I’m posting the news here as well, along with some extra thoughts – which I’ve posted beneath the indented part below.
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